Lost in the Storm
by Dragon-Sigma
Summary: Chibitalia gets lost in the forest during a storm, and Austria has to find him. Characters: Italy, Austria, Holy Roman Empire, and Hungary.


"Italia, it's cold out there! Come inside!"

"But Miss Hungary, it's so fun! Funny fluffy fuzzy snow..." Italy sang, throwing a handful of it over his head and watching it fall to the ground. He turned to his friend, the tiny master of the house. "Holy Roman Empire! Look at me, I'm a snow bunny! Hop hop hop!"

Roma, standing on an old upturned crate, turned from brushing his brown-speckled horse to see Italy jumping about, waving his hands at his sides like a rabbit's paws. He smiled nervously. "Oh, Italia, that's nice. Heheh, hop hop hop... Italia?"

Italy had tried to jump into a large snowdrift, and had tripped and fallen over. He laughed, brushing snow from his hair and bonnet.

It had snowed all afternoon, and on Hungary's suggestion, little Italy had managed to finish all his chores by suppertime, allowing him this chance to play.

"You're a cute snow bunny, but you really should come inside," Hungary called from the window, "You don't want to catch a cold!"

"Just a bit more, Miss Hungary, please?" Italy whined.

"All right then dear. But come in shortly," she said, and disappeared from the child's view.

"Meow, meow, now I'm a cat! Holy Roman!"

"Italia..." Roma began, "cats don't like the cold. A cat would like to curl by the fire...shouldn't you go do that now?"

"What? I wanna stay here with you! You'll be lonely! I'm not a cat then, I'm a...I'm a..." the child, deep in thought, idly shaped a snowball. Before he could come up with a suitable animal to imitate, the wind picked up, blowing drifts of dry snow across the field as it it were sand.

"Italia, that's a storm coming in. You should get inside-" he was cut off by Italy's squeak; the curling gusts had picked Roma's hat in their grasp and swept it across the ground.

"Italia, don't run off like that..." Holy Roman called after Italy, but the boy was already in the forest, chasing after the hat. Roma's attention was quickly diverted by his horse's frightened snorts – the storm was coming closer. He leapt down from the crate and led the horse back to its stable.

* * *

"See, right here, these notes cut off too soon; you need to extend this measure..." Austria began. Hungary nodded. They were reviewing her music for the festival later in the month. And of course, Austria, ever the perfectionist, was finding numerous errors.

They were interrupted by a small blond boy hurrying into the room, the edge of his black cloak wet from the snow.

"Miss Hungary, ma'am, Italia's run off again."

"Oh dear! And it's getting dark!" Hungary exclaimed.

"Holy Roman, are you sure you couldn't see her?" Austria said, ignoring the odd look Hungary gave him at this remark.

"She's gone into the forest. I couldn't call her."

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to find her," Austria said, dropping the score on the table and standing.

"I'll come too!" Hungary cried, jumping up.

"Nonsense, girl, it's no weather for a woman out there," he said, to a scowl from the woman in question. "Roma, find yourself a book; you need to review Socrates."

"But what about Ital-"

"I will return shortly." Holy Roman nodded and left the room, as Austria took his coat and walked outside.

Hungary waited a moment, then shook her head and said, "Well, that's not going to be much help. He'd just as soon get himself lost as find Italia. If he's not back soon, I'm going after him."

"Come back, Holy Roman Empire needs you!" Italy squeaked. Chasing Roma's black hat into the darkening trees, he tripped on a root and he fell sprawling into the snow.

"Awww, no fair!" he whined, climbing to his feet, "Silly tree, that's not nice!". The tree didn't reply. Italy ran onwards, hopping through the deepening snow to prevent falling over again.

"Aha! There you are! No more hiding, okay?" he said, triumphantly snatching Holy Roman's hat from where it hung, caught by a branch and shaking in the wind. Clutching it tight in his hands, Italy looked around for the direction he had come in. All of the forest looked the same, and he was lost.

"Holy Roman Empire? Mr. Austria? Miss Hungary? Where are you?" Rubbing a hand to his eyes, Italy started to cry. "Where are you? It's dark and it's so cold!"

"Mrrrow?"

Italy looked down to see a cat rubbing against his dress: a skinny grey tabby, its fur tipped with snowflakes.

"Awww, hello Mr. Kitty," Italy said, crouching down to stroke the cat's fur, "Oh, Mr. Kitty, you're so cold!" He lifted the cat in his arms, and brushed the snow from its back and tail. The cat purred and snuggled its head against Italy's. The boy laughed, scratching the cat under its chin. Giving a sharp meow, the grey cat twisted from his grasp and jumped to the ground. Italy chirped in surprise. "Where are you going, Mr. Kitty?" The cat walked a few steps away, then turned back to Italy.

"Mrrrow?"

Italy followed the cat, stumbling through the deep snow as it bounded ahead, pausing every few yards to look back. Soon it led the shivering child to a sheltered patch under a short tree, where the gusts of snow-laden wind disturbed the leaves but not the ground beneath. The cat sat there, meowing and pawing at the dark old leaves. Confused, and tired, Italy sat there, falling asleep with Holy Roman's hat in his arms, as the cat scampered off.

"Italia! Come here at once! This is no time for playing games," Austria called into the trees. He'd been searching for at least half an hour already – where could the child be? Italy wasn't one to play pranks or to be intentionally troublesome. Which could only mean Italy was lost — or hurt. _That irresponsible Hungary! She could at least keep an eye on Italia and Roma!_ He thought, scowling.

"Mrrrow?"

Something brushed against his legs. Austria turned, illuminating a grey cat in the light from his lantern.

"Shoo, cat, you're not needed here."

The cat scampered a few yards off.

"Mrrrow? Mrrrow?"

"Quiet, silly animal," Austria said sharply, swinging his lantern towards the cat in hopes of scaring it off – and saw Italy curled in the light.

"Italia!"

The boy hugged his friend's hat closer as the light fell on him.

"Grandpa Rome?" he called.

"What? Italia..." Austria began, bending over beside the boy, and bundling Italy into his arms, taking the hat from the child's grasp.

"You shouldn't run off like that, you could get hurt," he scolded, more parental than usual. Italy's tiny hands flailed about, grabbing at Austria's scarf, the clinging snowflakes melting on his fingers.

"Grandpa Rome! You're all soft and fuzzy!" he said with a confused smile. Now Austria was concerned.

"Italia...I'm not your grandfather. I'm... Mr. Austria."

"Hmm?" Italy said, with a slight frown, "But Mr. Austria is grumpy and mean! You're all nice and fuzzy and warm."

Austria paused for a moment, shocked by Italy's candid opinion."Grumpy and mean" indeed! He was of half a mind to slap the child, but reconsidered when he remembered Italy wasn't being intentionally rude; he was probably dreaming – or worse, had gotten himself sick from being out in the cold.

"...Well then, Italia, we had better return to the house."

"That would be nice, Grandfather. It's cold out here."

_Now then, which way leads back?_

Austria wandered in the direction he seemed to have come from, not noticing the grey cat following behind. Of course, with all the snow in the air, the cat was nearly invisible.

As Hungary had predicted, Austria was as lost as Italy. But she had prepared for this.

"Mr. Austria! Italia!" she yelled from a distance away, waving a lantern in the air. Holy Roman Empire repeated the call, and Italia perked up at the sound of his voice.

"Hungary! Roma!" Austria yelled at the speck of light in the stormy air, "I found Italia."

Finally, all four were out from the trees and inside the house, brushing clumps of snowflakes from chilled coats and boots.

"Hungary, get Italia to bed," Austria ordered, handing her the bundle of snow-damp skirts that was Italy. The tiny nation briefly roused at the movement, sneezing twice before snuggling into Hungary's arms. She vanished into an adjoining room, leaving Holy Roman gazing concernedly in that direction.

"You too, Roma. It's been a busy day." Austria did not wait for a reply before turning and entering the living room.

_Grumpy and mean, that's what he says. That's what you get for raising children, they're either spoiled or they hate you. Italia needs to learn respect! _

Austria angrily considered Italy's words. But, he pondered, the child did seem to fear him. _Maybe I have been too harsh on Italia._

He was interrupted in these thoughts by Hungary's entrance. She replenished the fire, and sat on a chair, taking out her sewing.

"Italia's asleep. I think he's caught a cold or something, we'll have to see tomorrow."

Austria nodded.

Outside the winds howled and the trees flailed in the storm. The cat, unnoticed, had made itself quite at home in a warm corner of the stables.

At sunrise, Italy woke, and struggled out from beneath his blankets. He'd set his tiny feet on the floor when Hungary grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and deposited him back on the bed.

"But Miss Hungary," Italy squeaked, with a sneeze, "I have chores! Mr. Austria will be angry if I don't work!" He coughed several times throughout this statement.

"Italia," she said kindly, "you're not well. Stay here for today. No chores."

"But Mr. Austria will-"

" 'But' nothing, you're staying here today."

"Hmm? Okay then."

"Good. Now go back to sleep."

It was later in the morning when Italy was woken by a light at his door.

"Italia?" a small voice called.

"Holy Roman Empire!"

Roma entered the room, dragging a large book behind him. "I...I've brought some stories. I could r-read them to you, i-if you would like."

"I would, Holy Roman," Italy said, smiling.

Roma jumped up onto the bed, pulling the book up after him. Flipping open the pages, he began to read.

"Now then, I-Italia, once there were three little pigs, and they went out in the world to make a living..."

" 'And I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down!' cried the wolf. But as hard as he huffed and puffed, he could not blow down the house of bricks, and the three little pigs were safe inside!" Holy Roman said, to Italy's delighted squeals.

Austria and Hungary, who sat reviewing music in another room, smiled at this. Somehow Italy's childish glee cheered even Austria.

"Another! Another!" Italy squeaked.

"Well, once upon a time there was a little girl, who always wore a red cloak, so she was called Little Red Riding Hood..."


End file.
